


Don't Let Go

by Semebay



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mermaid, Crack, M/M, Transformation, Undue Seriousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 13:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semebay/pseuds/Semebay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur was on the Titanic with Alfred, much like in the movie. However, Alfred was lost to the depths. Then he turned into a mermaid. This is crack, yes, but it is emotionally driven crack. This is their story of separation and salvation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let Go

_"Don't let go."_

They both knew better. They both knew that the words, spoken through quivering lips and chattering teeth, held no promise. It was a wish, a desperate plea for the ocean to leave them as they were. Alfred's lips were tinged with blue, frosted with ice. He nodded, his neck creaking with the motion. He was too cold, too wet, and he was unfeeling. He tried to grip Arthur's hand tighter, but it didn't matter.

He couldn't feel him anymore.

He couldn't feel anything anymore.

* * *

Arthur left the ship as soon as it landed at port. He had hidden himself away from the other passengers during the voyage, hidden himself from the girl that was supposed to be his fiancée. Facing the world was something he couldn't picture. He had finally experienced love, and while it had been short-lived, it had been uplifting. He couldn't tie himself to a woman he didn't care for, not anymore. He understood what he would be giving up in doing so.

Arthur entered New York with no money and no name. He was viewed as a beggar and a fool, not worthy of the time of proper Americans.

However, he had luck on his side. Through some miracle, he found himself taken in by an elderly couple with an extra bedroom. They gave him clothes and food, and he picked himself up from the ground to repay them.

Arthur found a job, easily enough. Everyone assumed he was an Irish immigrant, suitable for hard labor and low pay. He didn't mind the low pay-he was lucky to get what he could. As long as he had enough money to pay back the people that took him in, he was content.

He worked on the docks, helping with loading and unloading freighters. It was difficult at times, and he couldn't count how often he had fallen and wondered if getting up was wise or not. He put his all into the work simply so he could pay back his benefactors, until they told him that they expected no payment. It was his life, and they wanted him to live it.

Except that Arthur didn't know _what_ he wanted. He didn't know how to live a life that had been cut short on a tragic voyage across the Atlantic. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with the money that he had, and he didn't know what the world had left for him.

One day, six years after his arrival in New York, the shipping company offered him a position on one of their freighters. He was to board the ship and travel with it, moving his work from the dock to the deck. He took the job (and the raise) with the blessing of the couple that had taken him in, and he left New York once more. He was on the ocean, terrified of tragedy but aware that there was nothing left for him in the city of dreams.

Arthur traveled the world. He saw Spain and Mexico, landed in Africa and watched the locals working on the docks there. It was almost odd seeing the numerous ports from the deck of the ship. He had been down there for so long that it felt like another life. A life of solitude and hopelessness. While the solitude remained, a little more hope entered his life. He was away from his prison, away from the port where he had wanted to land with Alfred. While he was constantly battling the Irish deckhands that used him as a moving target for their whiskey bottles, it was a relief to not look upon the docks every day and see where the ship was supposed to land, and where Alfred was supposed to take him away from a loveless marriage into a world of happiness and freedom.

It was better being away from the port that had reminded him so much of the hope that had been torn away from him.

* * *

Brazil was one of the more exciting ports, if only because it was much busier than the others they landed in. Arthur was always in a rush to complete his work and prepare the ship for docking and leaving. His mates would laugh sometimes, mock him for his accent and his looks. With a great deal of luck, he had always managed to avoid their fists and their bottles.

Sadly, it appeared that Lady Luck had found better places to play when they were leaving port one dark night. He had thought he'd avoided the fists, but he hadn't managed to avoid the one hand that pressed itself firmly between his shoulder blades and over the side of the ship. Arthur didn't scream when he went overboard (he was too shocked), and the ship's powerful force sucked him under the waves.

Arthur was whipped back and forth in the water, his lungs filled and his body bruised by waves as hard as steel. He was pulled under again and again, and he wondered vaguely if Alfred had felt the same cold when he had died.

For surely he was dying. He was being pulled deeper and deeper into the ocean, sinking to the bottom like the mighty Titanic had seven years before.

* * *

_7 Years Earlier_

Death was warm.

Shocking but true.

Alfred was surprised by the revelation. He had expected there to be nothing. He hadn't thought that his body would burn with a warmth reminiscent to standing in the rays of the sun.

He had also thought that death meant you went to heaven. The bottom of the ocean didn't really seem like the kind of place people went when they died.

Alfred looked around, twisting his body to see everything. There were fish and plants, and not much else to see. He opened his mouth only to realize that there was something in it. He spit into his hand to find that he had somehow had his mouth filled with dirt, and then he scraped at his tongue with his fingernails to get it all out.

"Alfred."

Alfred continued to scrape at his tongue, spitting and grunting at the foul taste.

"Alfred!"

Alfred frowned and looked behind him. He couldn't place the voice, but the water could've been muffling it. He really hoped it wasn't Arthur. It would make dying in the abyss to save his life kind of pointless.

"Alfred," the voice repeated, and Alfred narrowed his eyes.

"I don't see you." Alfred looked around and crossed his arms. Beyond the fish and the weeds, there wasn't anyone down there.

Then a fish rammed into his nose.

"Ack!" Alfred jerked back and grabbed at his face in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. The fish floated before his eyes, and its mouth moved with the words spoken.

"We saved you," the fish said, and Alfred began to wonder if he had actually gone to hell. It would explain a lot.

"You're one of us now!" a voice came from behind him, and he turned to find that a school of fish had swarmed around him.

Alfred was understandably confused. He had no idea why there were talking fish, or why everything was so warm. Or why he was moving so easily in the water when he normally had to fight currents to move. He looked down at his legs, except that they were covered in some kind of blanket.

When Alfred tried to remove the blanket, he found that it was rather scaly and smooth.

And it was attached.

Alfred ogled at the blanket before coming to a conclusion that he had ever imagined having to come to in his life (or death).

He had a tail.

_A god damned tail._

Alfred thought of moving his toes, and instead the fin twitched. He did it again and propelled himself back through the water, hitting a large rock that he hadn't noticed before. He turned to look at it, and moved back a few feet to look at what the large writing on the side said.

_Titanic._

Alfred, his brain on overload, promptly fainted.

* * *

Alfred later regained consciousness to find that, no, he hadn't been dreaming. He looked up at the school of fish that still swarmed around him, then looked down the length of his body at the tail that was still present. He waved the fin and cried out wearily.

"You're awake!" one of the fish exclaimed. It swam closer to him and did a full-body wiggle that was probably a wiggle of excitement. Alfred didn't notice, as he was still staring at his tail. "We worried you had died!"

"Not really," another fish chimed in.

"Kinda."

"Maybe."

"Maybe not."

The fish all tried to voice their own take on Alfred's sudden loss of consciousness, and the immediate area was filled with a steady hum that was the overlapping voices of arguing fish.

"How?" Alfred whispered, and the hum stopped abruptly.

"The fairies," one fish said, and the rest immediately followed suit. The steady hum started once more as the fish repeated "fairies" over and over again, none in sync and all of it coming out as a garbled mess.

"No such thing as fairies," Alfred said, his eyes still locked on his tail.

"Unicorns," another fish said, and the hum grew louder.

"Unicorns got the fairies and fairies got the fish!" yet another fish shouted, its shrill voicing silencing the rest of the school. Alfred cringed at the sound, and the fish flitted its tail jovially. "Unicorns save the love of the dearest!"

Alfred frowned and prodded at his tail. Arthur. He could remember Arthur lying down on the couch on the ship, watching him and asking him to draw him like one of his French girls. On a unicorn. Alfred had been rather shocked, but maybe the unicorn had been-

"Arthur," Alfred sighed, and the fish tittered excitedly. "Arthur's gonna marry that bitch. Oh god, he's gonna marry her." He curled in on himself and wrapped his arms around his tail. "He's gonna marry her and they're gonna have little bitch children that look beautiful like Arthur but they're still gonna look like the bitch and _why_ do I have to be here and couldn't you've just taken me back or something I mean _come on_. _Death_ is better than him marrying her."

The fish turned to each other and Alfred covered his ears when the humming started again. He pressed his forehead against where his knees once were, and then the fish turned on him.

"To Atlantis!" the fish exclaimed, and Alfred wanted to cry.

"To the king!" more fish shouted, until they were trying to outdo each other in volume.

Alfred sobbed and the fish finally took notice of him. They swarmed him once more, lifting him and spiriting him away to depths unknown.

* * *

Atlantis wasn't very attractive in Alfred's eyes, though the fish seemed to think it was the bee's knees (not that they knew what bees were). He was still riding on a throne made of fish, he still had a tail, and now there were other weird mermaid people staring at him while he passed through a pathway lined with coral.

There were small shacks made of coral that apparently passed as houses, and many of the mermaids wore shells to cover their breasts. Alfred covered his eyes at the indecency of it all, but then he was dumped on the ground and his hands fell away. He found himself staring up at a woman with red hair and blue eyes that had her fists resting on her fish-hips while she looked down at him.

He gulped.

"I've heard of you," she said in a voice that was a lot squeakier than her rather intimidating figure would imply. "The creation."

Alfred didn't know what he was supposed to do. "I'm Alfred," he offered.

"Unless you have a name worth saying, don't speak it." The mermaid crossed her arms. "I, for example, am Aria. I am the great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter of Triton, I am queen of Atlantis, and you are now my subject!"

Alfred gulped. "We don't worship kings in America."

Aria narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. She bent down to look him in the eyes, and Alfred sank back into the sand.

"You're in Atlantis now, creation. This isn't your America."

"Aria!"

"Shit." Aria turned around and placed herself before Alfred. "Yes, Mother?"

Another mermaid, taller than Aria and considerably bigger in the stomach, drifted out from behind a pillar of coral. "Is-oh, he _is_ here. Good, good!" The woman pushed Aria aside and knelt before Alfred. Her dark hair made her look nothing like her daughter, and she smiled. "The fish brought word of your arrival. I'm glad to see you've met my daughter." She held out a hand. "I am Morganne, queen of Atlantis. My husband has ordered a room prepared for your stay. I'm sure you'll enjoy it here."

"I'm staying here?"

"Of course." Morganne stood and clapped her hands together. "Where else would you stay? Certainly not in the Titanic. Why, we have the best food in all the oceans!"

Alfred sniffed. "You have hamburgers?"

Morganne stopped. "What are those?"

* * *

Alfred's room was comfortable, a great surprise since he had been expecting nothing more than a coral-surrounded piece of sand. The palace was built into a large formation of rocks, and giant clam shells served as doors between rooms. His own room had some sort of bed made of sea grasses, and a small table made of stone. It was pretty ugly, but mermaids didn't know the beauty of industrialization so it wasn't a big surprise.

Alfred sat on the bed and sighed. It was uncomfortable, drifting up every so often and being unable to stay motionless in the water. He had to concentrate on staying immobile and as a result couldn't think about Arthur as much as he wanted to.

Arthur, who was marrying the bitch from New York.

Alfred lay down on the bed and groaned. What was the point in being turned into a mermaid? Supposedly it was for Arthur, but what good was it doing him? What good was it doing either of them?

* * *

Alfred was treated kindly in Atlantis. They taught him all he needed to know about living as a mermaid, living with their kind. They taught him all he needed to know about swimming and remaining motionless, everything about how to survive. He spent three years living with them and forming relationships, taking weeks at a time to travel the oceans with the princess (who still acted like a brat) and see other groups of mermaids. Most had heard of him and his association with the Titanic and humans.

He didn't care about them. They were nice to him, but nothing could replace the world he had been forced to leave behind.

He wondered what Arthur was doing. He wondered what his life was like, if he had children. He wondered where he lived. If he had recovered from the Titanic.

The thoughts haunted him. He dreamed about Arthur no matter where he was, and often woke tired and with a short temper. As time went on and he became more irritable, people learned to avoid him and the topic of the Titanic's demise.

His path changed after five years. After five years of drifting aimlessly among the merpeople that were like him but not, he was called before the king of Atlantis, the man that had treated him like a son despite Alfred constantly pushing him away.

Alfred didn't know what the meeting was for. He didn't know why he had to stand before Merlin in the darkness of their underwater night, nor did he know why Merlin held a rock in his hand that glowed with the intensity of the sun. He perched himself on a reef and crossed his arms.

"What'd you need me for?" Alfred grumbled.

Merlin looked back at him and held the rock aloft. "There are some things you weren't prepared for when you first came here." Merlin flicked his tail and moved closer to Alfred. "I think now you can face the truth." He placed the rock on the reef beside Alfred and continued before he could be interrupted. "I've watched over you for five years," he started, "and your friend for four."

Alfred stilled.

"When you were first brought here, the fish brought something with you." Merlin reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of red shells connected by weeds and other smaller shells. Alfred narrowed his eyes at it, then realized it was a female bikini top. "Morganne's sister passed when the Titanic sank. She was trapped under the wreckage. When she was alive, there were rumors that she played with fate and souls." Merlin pulled Alfred's hand out and placed the top in it. Alfred felt mildly disgusted. "The fish brought this back from where she lay. I'm sure your human would appreciate the gift of magic. He's had to suffer through many hardships in your absence."

"Is he okay?" Alfred asked. He reached past the top and took Merlin's wrist. "What happened?"

Merlin motioned to the rock and Alfred looked down at it. "He left. He left the people he knew and the life he lived. He stayed near the ocean, and now he travels it."

"He travels it?" Alfred touched the rock and his mind was filled with moving images. He could see Arthur. Arthur was moving boxes and cargo with hands that had never done hard labor. He was shouting at another man, his accent thick from anger, and Alfred picked the rock up.

"He rides in a ship now," Merlin said. "He stays on the water." Merlin pushed the top back in Alfred hand. "You can find him. You may have our tail, but you are not one of us."

Alfred was taken aback by Merlin's harsh change in tone.

"You are human, Alfred, no matter what form your body takes. Go west and find him. Your time with us is done."

Merlin pushed the rock closer to Alfred and left him, his tail propelling him through the water and away. Alfred looked down at the rock and picked it up gently. He could see Arthur again, looking out over the side of the ship and down at the waves made by the ship's hull. Alfred was sure he was leaving New York for somewhere.

Alfred let go of the rock and the vision stopped, only to reappear when he touched it again. Touching it was what brought about the visions, he quickly learned. He had a satchel made of reeds back in his old room, and was sure he could fit the rock in it. It would be a useful tool, but it was distracting to see everything all the time.

* * *

Alfred finally found the ship when it left one of Norway's ports. His shock was so great that he lost his hold on the satchel with the rock, but his growing excitement kept him from noticing. He was closer to Arthur than he had been for almost seven years, and he was going to finally reach him.

Alfred trailed behind the ship on its journey across the ocean. He could never quite catch up to it, and it docked at ports twice before he finally got closer. He passed one of the merpeople colonies outside Brazil, and they invited him to rest before he continued his chase. He didn't want to stop, but their insistence won and he gave them a few short hours of his time.

Reinvigorated, he reached the port just as the ship was leaving. Alfred swam alongside the ship, sure that his energy would last him long enough to follow the ship to its next port, when something slammed into his back.

Alfred was sucked under the water when his concentration was broken and he forgot to control his place in the water. He grabbed at the water in a panic only to come back with a fistful of shirt and arm. He stared at the face before him in horror before he thrashed his tail to escape the ship's hold.

Arthur was pale and his lips were turning blue. His eyes were closed and his hair was stained red with blood. Alfred hurried to the shore, moving as fast as he could to get him out of the water and away from what could be a horrible death. He couldn't feel the ache in his back that had started when he had been hit (by Arthur falling, he realized). He could only feel sheer desperation as he spirited Arthur away from the ship and death.

* * *

Arthur opened his eyes to stars and a moon that looked close enough to touch. He felt sticky and his head pounded, so hard that it was difficult to concentrate on the lights above. He raised an arm lazily, making a fist in the air as though he had grabbed a group of stars in the palm of his hand.

Another hand rose to meet his, and for a moment he thought it was his own. It closed around his fist and brought it back to his chest, pressing against where his heart was.

It was a bigger arm than his, more tan. The hand wasn't as blistered as his was, nor had it been turned an ugly shade of red by the sun. It was a hand he recognized, and after a moment he opened his fist to lace their fingers.

"I did it," Arthur murmured, taking a deep breath. "I died."

Alfred squeezed his hand. "Nah," he whispered. "I don't think so. We're both right here."

Arthur looked to the side and at Alfred. He didn't say anything. He just let the image sink in.

Alfred was watching him. His glasses were gone and his hair was pulled back as though he had been running his fingers through it.

Arthur touched his own hair to find bandages on his head, and he slowly sat up. Alfred's eyes widened in alarm, but Arthur barely noticed as he looked around the dock they were sitting on. There was an open first aid kit by one of the boats, probably what Alfred had used, and he blinked.

"You live in Brazil?" Arthur asked when he looked back at Alfred.

Then he saw the tail.

Arthur didn't speak. He stared at Alfred's tail dumbly, not looking away even when Alfred held him and pulled him closer.

"I missed you," Alfred said.

Arthur nodded silently.

"I really did."

* * *

Arthur had to wait for the freighter to return to port before he could return to America. They weren't sure how they would cope with Alfred, but the only plans they could think of were of him swimming ahead to New York while Arthur traveled on the ship. They didn't know what they would do from there, but what was more important was actually _getting_ there.

Arthur found a small fishing shanty to live in while he waited for the ship to return. He worked on Brazil's docks in the mean time and returned every night to Alfred. He would sit out on the dock and Alfred would pull himself up, seating himself beside Arthur and eating the food he brought (he had finally had another hamburger, and while it wasn't as good as those back home, it was perfect to him).

Often Arthur would bring a cot or a sleeping bag out so that he could be nearer to Alfred and away from the lonely would curl around one another and listen to the waves lap at the shore, and Alfred's tail slap at the dock.

One day, Alfred remembered the top he had been given by Merlin. He had left it hanging under the doc in one of the satchels he hadn't lost in the ocean, and he retrieved it. He hadn't known what to do with it, but it would be a gift. A gift of new beginnings and love.

Arthur loved it. Alfred wouldn't say where it came from, but Arthur hung it at the end of their dock where it acted as a wind chime, clicking whenever a hard gust of wind passed through. He laughed at Alfred's claim that it was magic, though he would always stare at it and wonder when he finished.

One morning, mere weeks before the freighter was to return, Arthur woke to Alfred in his arms and something wrapped around his legs. He looked down curiously to find that Alfred's legs were wrapped around him and the remains of his tail were peeling like skin of a bad sunburn. He stared in silence and shock, and then he cried.

Alfred smiled in his sleep.


End file.
